Remember The Past... - Chapter Four

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

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Papa was sitting up in the parlour when they returned home from the Meryton Assembly.

Even if he disdained most social events, he always waited to see them home safely. Lydia fancied that it was part of what made him such a conundrum; he could watch over far more effectively in person, but would not stir himself. Yet, his care came out in the little things; good-natured witholding of information so that they could anticipate the reveal and be surprised, like watching a play or theatrical.

The problems arose when Papa forgot that not all of them shared his sense of the ridiculous, and certain things required advance planning. How could Mama dress her daughters in Mr Bingley's favourite colour, or serve the dishes he liked at dinner, if she had no opportunity to know them? How was she to properly host a guest when she had no forewarning of their arrival?

How were the Bennet sisters to plan against danger at Netherfield when they were prevented from learning about their personalities? (Papa had been resolute that they would learn of Mr Bingley at the Assembly, along with every other young lady who had been forced to rely on gossip thanks to a mischievous father. The Miss Bonds and Miss Longs had been most sympathetic, when their Papas joined Lydia's in their little game.)

Still, it gave Mama the chance to impart every detail, and there was a quiet fondness in Papa's eyes as Mama exclaimed over Mr Bingley dancing twice with Jane, and Kitty and Lydia never being without a partner, and Mary described as the most accomplished young lady in the area. Oh, and Mr Bingley dancing with Lizzy as well...

"If he had any compassion for me," Papa finally interjected, "he would not have danced half so much! Would that he had sprained his ankle after the first dance!"

"Oh, but he should not have done that!" Lydia cried, bouncing impatiently, "For then he should only have danced with Charlotte, and she has so few offers to dance that Mr Bingley spraining his ankle while dancing with her should have seen her a wallflower entirely!"

Kitty nodded eagerly, "And if he had sprained his ankle, he could not have danced twice with Jane, or with Lizzy at all, and I have rarely seen Jane so pleased with a partner!"

Papa blinked, looking at them oddly. "I often think you silly girls, and then you read and argue a situation so shrewdly. Very well, my dears, he danced twice with Jane. What of his party?"

Mama beamed at him, taking a sip of the tea he poured for her. "Well, Mr Bingley is handsome, of course, and I am quite delighted with him for Jane. His sisters are charming women, and quite fashionable. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses! The lace on Mrs Hurst's gown -"

Papa immediately protested any talk of lace, which was a great pity. The lace on Mrs Hurst's gown had been Brussels lace; all the rage in Napoleon's courts, and impossible to get in England while war raged and trade embargos were in place. Mrs Hurst must have either taken the lace from an older gown from before the Continental War, and sewn it to her new gown to place herself at the height of fashion, or her husband had contacts with the smugglers who so frustrated merchants and Navy alike. Papa found those letters of complaint in his morning paper quite diverting, and would often read the more outraged quotes aloud over breakfast.

It should be a delightful puzzle to gossip over, but Lydia had bigger concerns about the Netherfield party, and would be forced to set that enjoyment aside until a later time.

Perhaps Papa would have been better enduring the talk of lace, for Mama now had to describe Mr Darcy, and how rude he had been to Papa's favourite daughter. "But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting his fancy! Disagreeable, horrid man; he is not at all worth pleasing! So high and concieted that there was no enduring him, walking here and there, fancying himself so very great. I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given him one of your set-downs! I quite detest the man."

Such a speech, aimed at the most eligible bachelor to enter Hertfordshire in years, was no small thing for Mama. To proclaim that she would not entertain him as a potential suitor for her daughters, or be politer to a rich man than propriety demanded, was shocking enough that even Papa looked taken aback.

"Well, my dear," said he, "I suppose we must be in company with him sometimes, if Jane is to see Mr Bingley at all, but there is no use in dwelling on the unpleasantness. Do we expect the Lucas's tomorrow?"

Mama laughed, "Oh, my dear Mr Bennet, we always expect the Lucas family after an Assembly! You need not worry; you and Sir William may retire with port, while we ladies talk."

They retreated to bed soon after, to gossip with each other, and after a suitable timed gathered in Jane and Lizzy's room, where a blushing Jane gratefully seized the opportunity to escape Lizzy's teasing.

Lydia stifled a yawn, and gave thanks that they would not be expected downstairs before nine, at the earliest. Mama always ordered breakfast served late the morning after an Assembley, and the Lucas family would come after lunch. Lizzy sat up straight, teasing forgotten as she fell into a leadership role. "What impressions have you gathered?"

Lydia copied her sister's posture, from where she had previously been sprawled over an ottoman. "Mr Bingley seems very good-natured and slow to upset. I cannot think that there will be much for Netherfield to influence."

Lydia and Kitty were careful to form their own impressions, but usually agreed with each other, as they did now. "We should not rule out his being indirectly influenced, but I think the larger danger lies in the rest of his party. Mr Hurst has the appearence of a gentleman, but he does not strike me as very bright, and a fondness for drink weakens the defences of the mind."

Jane thought well of everyone - it was one of the traits that made her so skilled at gaining allies - but that did not make her blind. "I do not think we can judge Mr Bingley's sisters on so short an acquaintance, but as their nearest neighbour and one of the foremost families of the area, I expect they will issue an invitation soon."

Lydia thought it rather more likely that they wished to show themselves superior to those who were their social superiors, but held her tongue. Perhaps the Netherfield ladies would prove her wrong. One barely had to ask what Lizzy thought. "It is to be hoped that Mr Darcy improves upon acquaintance, but of all of them I expect him most likely to be targeted. Mary, you had been researching Netherfield's history, had you not?"

Mary nodded, opening her commonplace book. "Several of the records were lost in a fire during the reign of Queen Anne; I had to ask Mr Mason for the church records, and requested a copy of the records from Ware. Do not fear, Uncle Phillips's clerk wrote the letter."

Uncle Phillips's clerk had yet to learn to question the requests posed to him by a pretty young lady, and had an annoying habit of seeking approval for everything. Uncle Phillips knew that Mary liked to be informed, however, and indulged his niece. Lydia tried not to fidgit; she did so wish Mary would get to the point, but supposed that there must be a reason.

Kitty coughed, and Mary frowned at her. "I mean to warn you that some of the information on which I base my conjenctures is second hand, and to be wary of taking it as certain."

Jane held up a hand, soothing them. "We understand, Mary. Pray, continue."

Mollified, their middle sister did so. "I also wrote to several authors of Gothic Novels, asking where they got their inspiration. Netherfield is not the only Dark Estate in England, and the Darkness can be from one of several sources."

Perhaps there was something to emulate in Mary's endless studies, after all. "What do you mean?"

Mary tilted her chin, somewhere between smug and vindicated. "At some estates, the Darkness is said to be the result of a powerful curse. I have yet to find true evidence or confirmation, but papers from the College of Archeologists correlate to holy places in pre-Christian times. In others, the best way to describe them is a malevolent haunting. Places where, at some point in history, many people died at once, in such a fashion as to leave angry ghosts. The last is more comparable to a poltergeist."

A what? Lydia blinked, "That sounds German. Is it an import by the Royal Family?"

Lizzy stifled a laugh, and even Mary's lips quirked into a half-smile. "The name is from Germany, yes. A poltergeist, according to legend, is a spirit formed not from a departed soul, but concentrated over time from negative emotions."

Science made Lydia's head hurt, as she tried to distill Mary's explanation into something easier to understand. "You mean like when we make rosewater or perfume, but if we used those vile bog plants that Papa's botanist friend sent him once, instead of sweet-scented flowers?"

Jane smiled proudly at her. "Yes, very like that. Have you found which one Netherfield is, Mary?"

The Bennets' scholarly sister shook her head. "I have eliminated the probability of a curse, but have yet to determine which of the other two it is. There were several massacres there during the Civil War, but it is difficult to determine whether the Darkness pre-dates that. Netherfield was built, after all, by a man who could not seem to entice a bride any other way, but left her a young widow who took a string of husbands who died or abandoned her, after her pregnancies ended in stillbirths or miscarriages, though she lived to a great age."

If Netherfield had not been a clear and present threat, Lydia would use it as the setting for a Gothic Romance of her own! Lizzy glanced out the window, where the east horizon was beginning to lighten. "We must investigate further before we act. For now, to bed. Perhaps Lady Lucas will have fresh gossip tomorrow."

Morning came too swiftly, and Lydia rose early to dance a boundary of protection around Longborn, under the guise of picking flowers. To brighten up the morning room for their visitors, naturally, Mama. What if Mr Bingley were to call?

He did not, but Sir William and Lady Lucas descended upon the house with their children. Charlotte was Lizzy's intimate friend, sharing her wit and teasing humour, while Jane assigned herself to Mama and Lady Lucas, and Lydia bent her head toward Maria Lucas. Kitty kept her attention on the younger Lucas boys, the eldest having escaped to the bookroom with Papa and Sir William.

It was an effective way of gathering information. "Has your Papa mentioned Mr Bingley or the Netherfield party this morning?"

Maria shook her head. "No, but our Cook is the sister of Mrs Nicholls, at Netherfield. She says that they keep Town hours, even in the country, or at least Miss Bingley and the Hursts do. Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy rise early, for Mr Bingley means to learn about the running of an estate."

Servants really were a wealth of information. Perhaps a trip to Meryton might be in order, to see what the Merchants had to say. "I suppose that is why Mr Darcy is here; it cannot be because he desires the company! He was ever so severe at the Assembly!"

They both giggled when Maria attempted to mimic Mr Darcy's stern glower, and shifted to lighter topics, like Mrs Hurst's lace, and the quantity of feathers in Miss Bingley's hair. Let Mama and Lizzy, and Lady Lucas and Charlotte, concern themselves with Mr Darcy.

Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy had known what Netherfield was as soon as he set foot out of the carriage.

He had long since abandoned the pursuit of wondering how Bingley managed to find himself in what seemed like every haunted manor and cursed crypt in England, blissfully oblivious to the danger. Darcy had no such luxury, for all that their friendship had originally formed because spending time with the amiable young man was more efficient than seeking out troublespots on his own. Netherfield held a darkness he had not experienced since his days at Eton, where he and his cousin had their first battle.

Darcy's cousin had later remarked that they should have anticipated it: thousands of boys on the cusp on manhood, crammed into a boarding school, could not help but be a breeding ground for frustration, resentment and all manner of other less-benign emotions. Having stood for almost four centuries, there had been plenty of time for those emotions to distill into something capable of taking advantage. In the privacy of his mind, Darcy cursed Wickham again; Father had done nothing so ill as to give him a gentleman's education!

He would need to write to Colonel Fitzwilliam, currently stationed in London, once he knew more of the situation. Was Netherfield the only source of Darkness here? He had observed limited sense and less restraint among the populace of Meryton, save for a few. The eldest Miss Bennet appeared all kindness and charm, but Darcy had been fooled by the appearence of goodness before. The youngest Miss Bennets were too open to be safe in such close proximity to the lurking malice at Netherfield.

He had observed Miss Elizabeth, too, and almost wavered on his feet. Her eyes were too keen, too observant, too penetrating and calculating for a young lady of her standing. She laughed freely, but her stance was watchful and wary, waiting. Even if they had been acquainted, Darcy would not have trusted himself so near her as to dance, even for half a set.

Meanwhile, the Bennet sisters bore watching, as unpleasant a duty as it would likely be.

Natasja Rose is the author of two Austen Variations and twenty-nine non-Austen books of various genres, two of which are being adapted as scripts for a mini-series.

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